Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Adolescence 2.0: The Heartful and Heartless

Love involves a peculiar unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding.

~Diane Arbus

"I'm sorry..."

Trinity Itou planned events with
style, ease, confidence, and 100% satisfaction guaranteed, little questions
asked. She performed a miracle whether the budget called for $500 or $5000. The
clients always gushed about the superior work completed by her and her team of
college friends that she put together three years ago. Work at Trinity Events was great, profits had
increased a bit, and she recently hired a new member for the team, so why
couldn’t she make something simple as a relationship work?

She sighed.
Her eyes bounced from the Mac’s screen in front of her to the outside of the
café. Harvard Square bustled with its usual culprits of the young and the bright-eyed,
along with the occasional sprinkle of the musician or artist. She checked her men’s
size Omega watch, and sighed again. That person was late. That person. Had she
already made up her mind to break it off? Again. How many times would they
dance this number? Break up. Miss each other. Get together. Get on each other’s
nerves. Break up. Repeat. It exhausted Trinity and this time she wanted it over
forever, but each break up reminded her how hard it was to give up eight years
of memories, most of them good, some painful, and a few unforgettable.

Suddenly
the café turned stuffy, and she slid out of her bright blue blazer and put it
behind her chair. She aired her oversized Black T-shirt with Twiggy’s face in
white and tried hard to ignore the fact that it was a cherished gift from her
soon-to-be ex. Why the hell had she put it on?

It struck that she hadn’t ordered
anything for…that person. She reached for her wallet, but stopped with a hand
halfway down the back pocket of her black skinny jeans. Why should she order
the same medium coffee with double shots of espresso and regular soymilk as she
always did? It would send the wrong message that everything was okay, normal
when it wasn’t at all. Or would it? No, she wasn’t one for being mean. She left
her seat and put the order in with an eye on her Mac.

As she waited, her soon-to-be ex walked into
the café. A mixture of joy, pain, and tiredness spread all over Trinity, and
she pushed a smile out her lips. Valerie walked over and gave her a tight hug.
She let go before Trinity could kiss her on the cheek as always.

“Is that mine?” Valerie asked and pointed
at the coffee mug sitting alone on the counter.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee
made Trinity want another one. “Yeah.”

When they
settled in their seats, she shut her laptop and put it back into her black
leather satchel. She let her eyes wander over Valerie’s smooth light brown skin, hazel
eyes, and long, curly hair that she lost her fingers in so many times. Her
girlfriend’s lips were set in a straight line. She wore a black leather jacket on top of a low v-shirt. Her collarbone poked out with such boldness it made Trinity
worry about whether Valerie attempted to lose weight again when it was not at all
necessary.

Valerie lifted her mug with both hands and took a sip of her coffee. “So what’s up? You
said you wanted to talk. I’m here. So, let’s talk.”

“No need to
sound angry already,” Trinity said and cursed inwardly when she found her mug
empty of coffee. She should have at least ordered a bag of dried apricots or
something to keep her hands occupied for what she predicted would be another
testy conversation.

“You’re
right. I am angry. Because I know where this is going. I’d rather be at home, correcting papers.”

They stopped living together after
their third break-up because they finally retired the dream that they would
commit to each other. And yet, while Trinity dated other people during their
break-ups, Valerie did not as if she knew they would eventually return to each
other’s arms.

“I’m so
sorry I’m making you angry.”

“No, don’t
say that.” Valerie shook her head and curled her lips in a way that shrouded her
beauty, but commanded attention. “Say ‘sorry’ one more time and I swear I will
throw this coffee out the window.”

“That’s six
dollars. And let’s not forget the cost of repairing that window. I’m not rich,
ya know,” Trinity said in a weak attempt at a joke. She even threw in a genuine
smile.

Valerie wasn’t biting. In fact, it
had the opposite effect on her. She closed her hands into fists over the table
and opened them again. She always did that before she landed a blow.

“That’s it. I know what you want,
Trin. And you can have it because you know what? I want it too. I’m tired too.
I get it. We’re done. For good this time.”

Doubtful, Trinity traced the
outline of her jaw with her thumb. “Yes, we should be done, but it’s not that
easy. We say we’re done and then, poof! We’re back together again.”

“Not this time. Let me save us some
time. Good-bye. Thanks for the coffee.” She rose up to go, but Trinity caught
her small hand.

The touch spiked her heartbeat and
aroused memories. And like instinct, Trinity rubbed the back of Valerie’s hand in
a circular motion. “Please, sit down and
listen. ”

Valerie sat down and slowly retrieved
her hand. She folded her arms across her chest and let her gaze wander out the
window. The sunlight just had to kiss half her face and illuminate one eye,
turning it into a small round whisky quartz.

“We need to stop doing this.”

“I know that already.”

“Please, let me finish.”

“Okay, go on.”

Now that she had Valerie’s attention,
the words she had carefully put together last night in her head escaped her.
She took a deep breath and hated the ache that gnawed at her stomach. Please don’t let me screw this up.

“Valerie, I feel that you continue to
hold on to me because I’m the only girlfriend you’ve ever had. And you’re
afraid to let go, but you have to. I also don’t think it’s fair to me that
you’re still not open to your family and friends. That dinner last week with
your family was—I’m so sorry to say—one of the most uncomfortable experiences
of my life. I hated that I had to lie so much about myself and us. It made me sick. Sometimes, I wonder if you’ll ever be out.
I’m not pressuring you or anything because I know it’s a very difficult and
personal decision. But, if we are to grow into our true selves, we seriously
need to give each other space. Or we’ll be locked in this unhealthy
relationship based on lies and secrecy. And pain. I don’t want that. Do you
understand?”

Trinity held her breath for Valerie’s
response. She saw her ex-girlfriend’s lips quiver. Wait. Were those tears
lining the bottom of her eyes? Shit.
She reached for her hands, but Valerie stood up from her chair. It screeched as
it scraped the ground.

“No, don’t even try. I never want
to talk to your self-righteous ass ever again. How could you let those words come
out of your mouth? You didn’t even ask to find out that I felt so horrible
about that night too. And that I wanted to do something about it. To make
things right.”

“Wait. I’m so sorry if what I said
came out the wrong way. And I’m sorry—”

“NO! No no no no. Stop with the
apologizing. Be my girlfriend for once, and not my freaking therapist!”

Everyone in the café turned their
eyes on them. Trinity felt the blood and heat rush to her face. Before she
could get over her embarrassment, Valerie was gone. She exhaled all the breath
her lungs could expunge and leaned back into her chair. So, were they broken up
or not? First, she says she never wants
to talk to me again, and next says that I’m supposed to be her girlfriend.
Which is it? Trinity rubbed her eyes with her forefingers. Had she trapped
herself in some never ending circle? She hadn’t the heart to ignore Valerie if
she happened to call again, or maybe she finally should. But how?

She checked her watch. The search
for answers would have to come up another time. She had a meeting with a big
potential client that she could not be late for. And getting there required
taking the dreaded Green line. Mentally spent, Trinity gathered her satchel and
blazer and walked out the café for the subway.

"It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live." - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

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